


undercover agent style

by kwritten



Series: Cleveland Hellmouth Slayer Tower Series [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Cleveland Hellmouth, F/F, Gen, Post-Chosen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:01:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3289598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwritten/pseuds/kwritten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OFC: Logan (headcanon cast - Kaitlyn Alexander from Carmilla)<br/>Meghan (headcanon cast - Raven Symone)</p>
            </blockquote>





	undercover agent style

_Are you sure about this?_  Amanda’s voice came hovering from behind her.  
  
 _About as sure as I am about anything,_  Dawn smirked at the black leather mini-skirt she dug out of Faith’s trunk from the corner of the room they shared when she was in town. (“Shared” being a relative term that meant more clothes on the floor than normal and occasionally being hauled out to the sofa or curling into bed next to Logan because big sis was  _entertaining_.)  
  
 _Shouldn’t we…?_  
  
Dawn shimmied out of the red halter dress one of the girls had offered her but had been just a little too much Marilyn and not enough Angelina ala  _Girl, Interrupted_  which is kind of the aesthetic Dawn was going for and tugged on the black mini,  _Yes. We absolutely should call Giles and bring him and Buffy and the whole gang back from their really important mission to an undisclosed location for a hunch. That’s a perfect idea A, go do that._  
  
Amanda stared at the ceiling as Dawn tugged off the fishnets (they did  _not_  liven up the red halter) (she looked like a bad 80’s prom date) and pulled on a pair of Buffy’s knee-high boots,  _Well it’s just that I can’t reach anybody and…_  
  
 _And we’re pretty sure they’re in a hell dimension and-or dead, Amanda you suck at pep talks. Try this on Dawnie,_  Meghan said as she threw a shirt at Dawn’s head.  _Cute bra by the way._  
  
 _Thanks._  
  
Dawn studied herself in the mirror. Too much eyeliner, hair slightly curled but more rumpled than anything else ( _sex hair_ Logan had said), knee-high black boots, black skirt barely covering her ass, a sheer blue off-the-shoulder cropped sweater with a lacy black bra visible underneath – she looked the part.  _Are we sure about the corset?_  
  
 _Too much,_  Logan was very knowledgeable about such things.  _You want them to think this is a normal night and you’ll be all fidgety and uncomfortable in that thing. It doesn’t fit you._  
  
 _Ladies this is seriously the worst idea you have ever had ever,_  Kira was stuck on assignment in New Orleans and couldn’t fly in just for a reconnaissance mission, so she was lending her ever-helpful advice from a skype window open on Logan’s laptop.  
  
Logan laughed from where she was lying sprawled out on the floor,  _Come and stop her then, babe._  
  
Amanda whimpered.  
  
Meghan kicked Logan in the shoulder roughly.  
  
Kira sniffed,  _I’m going now. I hate all of you. I’m finding a hot bartender and putting in a transfer. You’ll never see me again._ The skype window went blank.  
  
Amanda whimpered again.  
  
Dawn grinned foolishly down at Logan,  _I just guaranteed you some awesome angry sex later didn’t I?_  
  
Logan closed her eyes and shrugged, Either that or make-up sex. I’m not picky.  
  
 _Not to be all reasonable adult here or anything – but couldn’t we try calling someone? At least Faith,_  Meghan was trying to hide her fear but she was really really terrible at it. Which is why she wasn’t the one in a femme fatale outfit getting ready to go undercover at a vampire club.  
  
Dawn threw a stake, some holy water, a cell phone, and pepper spray into an orange handbag and chewed on her lip while the others debated the necessity of this plan.  
  
Technically, yes, Faith was the better choice for this kind of operation. She was sort of the best out of all of them at infiltrating vampire haunts – or at least reverse-seducing them. She had that hard edge and quick adrenaline that drew them in, and a sort of haunted look in her eyes she never had to try very hard to evoke. She was damaged and rough, a little kinky and not a little gay, and she looked great in a skin-tight, too-short mini skirt. Faith knew exactly how to draw vampires in, get them to ‘let her’ seduce them and lead them into a dark alley. She was the best.  
  
Dawn studied her face in the mirror, she was sexy (and maybe a little gay sometimes) and could definitely pull off just the right amount of haunted desperation (how many people has she watched die?) (how old was she exactly? five or five thousand and five?), the trick would be to pull off the right amount of edge. Right now she felt like a sheep in wolf’s clothing about to walk into a den full of cougars.  
  
Literally nothing about this was in her favor.  
  
 _It’ll be fine,_  she said to Amanda, pulling the lanky girl into a hug.  
  
 _No it won’t._  
  
  
  
  
  
Except, it really was fine.  
  
Three guys bought her drinks and she had nearly danced holes in the bottom of Buffy’s new boots. Reconnaissance could be fun. And exhausting.  
  
 _The point,_  she said to her shoes in the bathroom around one in the morning.  _The point is to be seen and hope for the best._  
  
The gang they were hunting had already taken four girls between the ages of eighteen and twenty-three throughout the city. All brunettes with daddy issues last seen at this club. A club Dawn was certain vampires liked to frequent. They all disappeared around two in the morning. Their bodies hadn’t been found, which lead Dawn and the other girls to believe they had been turned. Local authorities were brushing it under the rug as typical winter-blues, young girls running off to California or Florida for a tan and they’d be back by Christmas.  
  
Dawn obviously thought this was all a bunch of horse manure.  
  
Cleveland didn’t appear to have the same problem with local authorities being demons that Sunnydale had, but it was on a Hellmouth so you couldn’t be too careful.  
  
  
  
  
Around two-fifteen Dawn let herself slump against the bar and order a straight tonic. She was tired and it looked like she had missed the boat, one more drink and then she was going home, stealing the milkbath she knew Morgan had hidden in her room, and was taking a long, long bath. She deserved it.  
  
 _Long night?_  he had slightly greying hair at his temples and a too-white smile, like a man in a catalogue advertising veneers.  
  
Dawn sipped her tonic slowly and raised her eyebrows. Come on, if this guy was a vampire she was going to eat her hat.  
  
Well first she’d go buy a hat.  
  
And then she’d eat it.  
  
She smiled,  _Longest._  No harm in talking to a regular old human, right? Anyway she might be wrong.  
  
He sat down in the stool next to where she had haphazardly leaned her body against the bar.  _I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours?_  
  
 _Oh just… the guy I was expecting. He never showed up._  
  
The bartender brought the man a drink – he must have ordered it before and Dawn hadn’t noticed.  
  
 _Now who would stand up a pretty thing like you?_  
  
(Next time Dawn went undercover she’d remember not to drink the liquor.  
  
Even if it’s free.)  
  
She was a bit giddy now that she felt safe. And somewhere in the “my feet are killing me whiskey is awesome wow the music is too loud” part of her brain, she decided to flirt with the older guy with sophisticated temples of grey because she was a dangerous undercover agent, hell yeah.  
  
So they had a really bad conversation that was mostly half-sentences and shouts and awkward pauses. But it was a bar and it was three in the morning and what were they really going to talk about anyway?  
  
He didn’t offer to walk her to her car, which was fine since she didn’t have one anyway. She was sober enough to walk herself home and there were enough Slayers patrolling the ten blocks between the club and Slayer Central that she’d bump into one of them sooner or later anyway.  
  
So she said goodbye and didn’t even feel rejected when he didn’t ask for her number, splashed some cold water on her face in the bathroom, grabbed her coat from the counter downstairs, and started the long walk home.  
  
It was actually a huge fucking disappointment when Mr. Sophisticated was waiting for her in an alley two blocks from the club.  
  
She splashed the holy water in his face first and it dripped down his cocky smile like regular water and that’s probably the point when she got mad.  
  
 _Bro why’d you have to ruin it?_  she whined at him after kneeing him in the balls and probably breaking his wrist by slamming down on it with her … ah…  _Buffy’s_  boots. (If it didn’t break the first time she stomped on it, it most likely did the fourth.) _Couldn’t you have at least been evil?_  
  
Logan had watched the whole thing from the entrance to the alley and wrapped her short arm around Dawn (in those five inch heels Logan’s head seemed to barely creep over Dawn’s waist) (but she tended to have delusions of gigantism when she’d been drinking),  _Good shot, kid. You took out a serial killer. And I do believe you were drunk while kicking ass._  
  
 _Will they take away my license?_  
  
 _I’ll put in a good word for you at the hearing._  
  
Dawn leaned into her friend,  _Thanks shorty._  
  
  
  
  
  
 _Yeah, so apparently the creep had six girls buried in his basement. Including his sister. … No the cops think they figured it out …Faith plays a very good damsel … Nope, no demon. No witchcraft. Regular old human scum… Yeah Logan left some permanent scars… No, I swear I didn’t know they were going to-- … Please don’t send Andrew we have this totally under contr-- … I am safe as houses or something and would never, ever go undercover … yeah okay… love you too… bye Buff._  
  
 _Did she buy it?_  
  
Dawn snagged the half-eaten piece of pizza out of Faith’s hand,  _For now. If she ever looks into our timeline she’ll figure out I lied about something._  
  
Faith stole the pizza back,  _Yeah, I showed up like two weeks after the idiot hung himself in jail._  
  
 _How are you staying for?_  
  
Faith shrugged and stood up to fill up their plate with more pizza from the delivery box on the table,  _Until the Buffster gets back maybe. I gotta gig up in Edmonton I need to check up on in a month or so – Giles’ orders – but until then I’m a free jailbird._  Faith stopped in front of Dawn,  _Do you always eat sitting on the floor?_  
  
Meghan peeked her head in the door at that moment – wrapped in a towel and with her long hair falling wet down one shoulder,  _I trip over her and Logan all the fucking time. It’s like living with two human-sized house cats that lay in exactly the spot that you want to walk on._  She shot her Miss America smile at Dawn and then trotted off down the hall.  
  
  
Faith sat next to her and spread her legs out,  _You have weird roommates._  
  
 _Yeah, they won’t even let me put anchovies and m &m’s on the pizza when it’s my turn to cook._  
  
From all sides of the condo came a sudden ringing and shrieking of female voices berating Dawn’s dubious skills with an oven. Faith sat on the floor next to her sister, nibbling at her pizza, and wondering just  _how much_  trouble they were all going to get in once big sis came home and figured out what they had all been up to.  
  
Later that night they all piled into the living room and watched  _Die Hard_  and let Dawn put sriracha sauce on her rocky road without anyone complaining about … well…  _gross_. (Logan complained  _and_  teased. But Logan was exempt from pretty much every rule in the house. Except showering. She was totally not allowed to skip showering or steal anyone else’s showering time slot. There were lines even she couldn’t cross.) There wasn’t a lot of watching the movie so much as critiquing the strategies of everyone involved (except the part with the dead guy in the elevator, which even Meghan had to admit was too hilarious a move to not give props to), toenail painting, hair-braiding, and hand-to-hand-combat demonstrations on the couch.  
  
Standard Saturday night.


End file.
